Crusade
by LeviathanRising
Summary: Prince Hans is a grand manipulator, truly grand. People are easily swayed by fear, and what could be more frightening than an evil sorceress? Nothing will cause the nations of Europe to raise an army as quickly as the stories he will spin of Arendelle's queen and her powers. And once he has his army, exacting bloody vengeance will be an easy task...at least it should be.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone! I Had a sudden inkling to write a "Hans' Revenge" fic, but then it blossomed into something a good deal bigger. This has become just as much a historical fanfiction as a Frozen fanfiction, so if you see that I've made some historical mistake in the story, please tell me! **

**I've tried to keep the characters as In Character as possible, so please tell me if I veer off with that too.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy!**

_I Don't own Frozen or any of the other bits and pieces of Disney movies that will probably show up her, they all belong to Disney. _

* * *

Hans hated Yule. When he was a boy the loud and insufferable singing of the people in the city streets below his window prevented him from getting any measure of sleep, or any sort of relaxation for that matter. When he had grown a bit older, it prevented him from completing his studies in time or in a satisfactory fashion.

It was just so damn _pointless!_ It was a festival meant to bring good harvests mainly, or military victories, when the Southern Isles was caught in a war, but Hans had never seen it to do either of these things.

He had hoped that as the missionaries of that southern god, Christ Jesus, slowly converted the land, the celebration of Yule would fade, but no. The people had chopped down Jolnir's sacred ash trees, but then they had simply carved crosses from them and claimed Yule was now the birthday of their new god. The Holiday had a new name, sure, but it was still Yule, and Hans still despised it.

However, as bad as it had been from the bedroom window of a pampered prince, it was far, far worse from the window of Hans' new cell. The prison cells built into the castle were much closer to the main square of Skagan, making the singing and the celebration that much louder, that much more unbearable.

Hans was certain Gustav had shut him up in the northern tower on purpose, what were the odds he would be gifted the cell nearest to the square by pure coincidence?

Hans' trial, if it could be called that, had been rather brief. Half of his brothers hadn't even bothered to look up and acknowledge him as the charges were pressed, and the sentence declared.

When the old bastard of a judge had stood to condemn Hans, not a single one of the princes, or the King himself had bothered to say a word in his defense.

"Prince Hans Eriksson of the Kingdom of the Southern Isles, by committing the heinous and despicable crimes of treachery, and attempted regicide, you have sinned against your noble family's name, and against God himself. You are sentenced to imprisonment in the northern tower, until a more fitting punishment might be found to deal with you."

When the guards had come for him, he had screamed and kicked, digging his heels into the marble floor and refusing to go calmly or quietly, as the judge had insisted.

"God damn you all!" He had shrieked.

"I am a prince! You cannot treat me as you would some common horse thief!"

His protests had been futile, as the powerfully built soldiers easily dragged him from the court, and tossed him into his new chambers with very little ceremony.

"Welcome to your new living spaces your majesty, I hope you find it to your liking!" The older one had cackled, slamming the barred door shut and locking it in place.

"I'll kill you when I'm free! I'll hang you from the castle battlements and then slice the flesh from your bones and throw it to the sharks in the harbor!"

Spittle flew from Hans' mouth as he ranted. Little remained of the calm, devious Prince who had nearly schemed his way onto the Throne of Arendelle using only his charm.

_Almost._

Almost. If only his sword arm had been a moment quicker, the witch would be dead, and so would her sister. If only he had made sure Anna was gone, smothered her with a pillow, _something!_

Arendelle and its' citizens occupied most of the prince's thoughts these days. Fantasies of revenge filled his mind day and night, his only escape from the humiliation and torment of his imprisonment.

How he would like to march into Scandinavia with an army, set fire to every building in Arendelle, slaughter its' people, destroy its' priceless temples, spill the guts of its' priests in the streets.

And the Queen…she would wish she'd had the good fortune to die from a single sword strike. He would make her death as agonizing as he possibly could. Perhaps he would take a dagger, straight from the blacksmith's fire, and use it at his leisure, making long cuts in her skin with the heated blade. He imagined how beautiful the spilled crimson would look, in stark contrast to her ivory skin. It would be like a work of art, almost.

Perhaps Anna could watch, before she followed her sister into the frozen wastes of Hel.

Yes, they were just fantasies for now, but they would remain so only as long as it took him to be free himself. And he would be free, and then Arendelle would _burn._

* * *

"Then it's settled, in exchange for unrestricted trade with Great Britain and her many, many colonies, Arendelle will come to the defense of our nation in the case of war, or any other acts of hostility by a foreign nation. Likewise, the armies of Great Britain will do the same for you. You can expect any and all important ships leaving Arendelle to be under the full protection of the Royal Navy."

Elsa took up her ornate quill from the table, and with a flourish, marked the trade agreement with her unique and ornate signature.

"I hear tell you may not have many of your colonies across the Atlantic for much longer."

William Pitt looked taken aback by the statement, but the Prime Minister quickly composed himself.

"I assure you, your Majesty, the situation in the Americas will be resolved, peacefully I might add."

"Perhaps", Elsa said. "Even if not, there's still India, of course."

Pitt smiled. "Of course", he replied.

With that, the Englishman bowed to the Scandinavian Queen and with his delegation in tow, took his leave from the castle.

He was the sixth delegate from a foreign government that Elsa had received within a month, and he certainly wouldn't be the last. Word of

Elsa's abilities and the winter they had caused had spread across Europe and beyond incredibly quickly.

Arendelle was suddenly the center of all Europe's attention, and the Queen wasn't sure how she felt regarding that. Already she had received dozens upon dozens of marriage proposals from kings, princes, and noblemen across the continent. She had turned each and every one of them down, but they continued to arrive, and she did not see an end to it anytime soon. On the other hand, Arendelle now had more trading partners than it could possibly handle, and in most of those cases all she'd had to do in return was promise to defend these nations against attack if necessary.

'

However, for all those who hoped to gain her favor there seemed to be just as many who condemned her. Elsa had been denounced as a witch, a harlot, and a servant of the Devil, variously.

She made her way to her balcony, breathing in the fresh morning air. Summer was coming to an end in the Kingdom, and it seemed the people were determined to make the most of what was left. In the streets below, she caught sight of Olaf playing with several peasant children, who all quickly stepped aside as Pitt's delegation passed through, flanked by menacing British Regulars brandishing muskets.

As she saw Pitt nervously skitter away from the living snowman when he tried to come in for a hug, she couldn't help but giggle. People always seemed afraid of Olaf at first, but they usually warmed up to him.

Elsa turned from the balcony and made her way down to the great dining room of the Castle, Anna had said she'd had the cooks prepare something special. She'd worry about the storm clouds she'd inadvertently caused to gather over Europe later, politics could wait.


	2. Planning

**Update! Sorry for the somewhat short chapter, but I'm still debating on what to do next. To everyone who followed, favorited, or reviewed this story, thank you very much! I Appreciate it!**

* * *

Hans had managed to fall into a fitful and very shallow sleep, reclined against the cobblestone walls of his cell, but he was quickly and rudely awakened by the sound of metal striking metal, accompanied by annoyed shouting.

"Come on! Up, up, up! Breakfast time!"

Hans snapped himself from his position, and made his way to the cell door, searching for the guard responsible for feeding the prisoners today.

A Thinly built man, with arms like broomstick handles, dressed in a soldier's uniform far too big for him, made his way down the row of cells.

He stopped at every cell to dump a ladle full of some disgusting soup into the waiting buckets held out by the prisoners, humming as he did so.

Hans held out his own bucket reluctantly. Often he would skip meals, simply because he couldn't bring himself to extend the bucket expectantly like a whipped dog. But there was something familiar about this man, and Hans wanted to see him up close.

The prisoner two cells down from Hans' apparently felt the same way, because when the guard lowered his ladle into the pot for the prisoner's ration, the prisoner reached out and struck the pot, causing it to jump and splash soup into the guard's face.

The guard responded quickly and calmly. He slammed the metal ladle into the prisoner's face with apparently all the force he could muster, for Hans, and certainly every other prisoner in the wing, heard a sickening crunching sound as the prisoner fell backwards, holding his face with both hands as red streamed out between his fingers.

The guard served soup to the prisoner in the next cell with the presumably bloodstained ladle. The prisoner did not complain.

The man came to Hans next, and without looking up, he dipped the ladle into the soup for Hans' ration. When he did look up, the soup pot, ladle and all, immediately clattered to the floor.

"Hans!"

It took the fallen prince a bit longer to recognize the guard, but when he did, a similar look of shock spread across his face.

"Gunter?"

"Gods! What has Gustav done?"

Hans spread his hands, as if to illustrate the obvious.

"Imprisoned me, as you can likely see."

Gunter looked indignant.

"How can he imprison a prince, much less his brother, without trial?"

"There was a trial, though really, it could barely qualify as one. It was not a very public thing."

"This is an injustice!"

"As you might imagine, I could not agree with you more."

"What were the charges?"

Hans hesitated. He didn't have to tell the_ full_ truth

"I'm sure you've heard by now, of the incident in Arendelle?"

"Everyone in Europe has, I'm sure."

"I was there, the only one of my brothers I might add, for the coronation of Queen Elsa. When she froze the land, I tried to stop her, I tried to convince her to end the winter, but she would not listen to reason. In the end, I was forced to end her life, for the good of her own people. But I failed, I was shipped here in chains, accused of regicide. As you can only imagine, Gustav and the rest were only too happy to at last have an excuse to get me out of the way."

"Wh-what is your final sentence, Hans?"

Hans took on a forlorn look, his eyes cast downward.

"I do not know, it would not surprise me if it were death."

"No. That cannot be. Will none of your brothers speak for you?"

"Only Harald or Jarl might, perhaps Klaus. But it does not matter, they are too afraid of the rest to say anything."

Gunter cursed.

"I will speak with Harald, if nothing else, perhaps he can sway Gustav to be more merciful."

Hans smiled and reached through the bars to clasp Gunter's hands.

"Thank you old friend."

Gunter nodded and continued down the hall, shouting at prisoners all the way.

Hans was still smiling. No plotting, no intricate escape plan required, an opportunity had fallen into his lap once again, and this one he did not plan to squander.


	3. Unexpected Visitors

**I Decided to make Weselton a city in Corona, and I think Flynn and Rapunzel, and her parents, will probably factor into the story later. No Hans in this chapter I'm afraid, but he'll show next time.**

* * *

"I'm afraid attempts by our dignitaries to re-establish our former trade relationship with Arendelle have been so far unsuccessful, Queen Elsa stands by her decision."

"Oh _God,_ this is a nightmare!" Screeched Duke Hermann XI of Weselton.

The small, stick-thin man paced back and forth through the parlor, grumbling and moaning. What little hair he had left was a mess, and his face was beet red from a healthy mixture of rage and worry.

" I can't lo-" the Duke quickly realized his poor wording. "_We _can't lose trade with Arendelle!"

After a few more minutes of pacing, the Duke fell exhausted into a large armchair, sucking in massive breaths, the red slowly draining from his face.

"Who does that vile sorceressthink she is?" he spat, digging his fingers into his armrests.

The messenger and Hermann's guards exchanged uncomfortable looks.

"My Lord, in all honesty, the loss of trade with Arendelle won't have a great affect on the Coronan people in general, its' only noticeable effect will be upon…" The messenger trailed off.

The Duke snapped around to face the messenger. The red was back in full force.

"Upon _what_?" Hermann seethed.

"Upon, well…"

"Speak damn you!"

"Upon your personal wealth."

The Duke exploded.

"That's exactly my point! Who do you think bought my fifty acres of arable land? Who do you think bought this mansion? This uniform? Arendelle did!"

He gesticulated wildly, gesturing to his various possessions as he named them.

"I will be ruined! I will have to live like a peasant in some horrid mud hut in the fields!"

"With all due respect My Lord, I think you may be overreacting to some extent."

"Overreacting? How would you like to be stripped of your title and evicted from your own home because of some heathen _witch?"_

It was obviously a rhetorical question, and the messenger remained silent.

The Duke turned to his guards.

"Prepare a carriage, and provisions for a journey to the capital, tomorrow. I need to see the King."

* * *

"What's it like in Prussia?"

"It's nice enough, a lot warmer than here, though not as beautiful, I must admit."

"Oh! Thank you!"

Anna beamed at the compliment toward her kingdom, smiling broadly.

In recent months, Arendelle's princess had taken to visiting and familiarizing herself with the various travelers and missionaries that had come to her land in the time following the Unexpected Winter. The one she spoke to now, a young Prussian named Frederick, she had only just met, but she hoped to add him to her list of foreign friends quickly enough.

Frederick, a laborer paid to help erect a church for a group of missionaries, struck a block of wood with an axe once again, tossing the resulting pieces onto a pile at his side.

The Church was to be built on the shore of Arendelle's Fjord, under the shade of a massive oak, coincidentally one of Anna's favorite places to be, which was how she had run across the builders in the first place.

"What kind of temple are you building?" Anna asked.

"Well, we don't usually call them temples in Prussia. Churches, generally. Though I suppose it's the same concept."

"What god is it to be dedicated to?"

"Christ, of course."

"Just him?"

"We are only to build churches dedicated to him, he is our only god."

"It seems kind of weird, having just one god."

Before Anna could continue, she cast her gaze towards Arendelle's harbor and saw something that worried her somewhat.

A Great, majestic ship bobbed in the water, surrounded by several smaller war vessels. The multitude of ornate flags and tapestries that hung from it's masts and decorated it's sails meant it could only hold some sort of foreign delegate or statesmen, but there had been no one expected today, nor in the days following. Elsa would be just as worried, if not more so.

"I've got to go back to the castle, my sister will be worried. I'll be back tomorrow!" She shouted, as she ran off towards her home.

Frederick simply stood there, staring, as he suddenly realized that he had been talking to a member of Arendelle's royalty rather than some overly enthusiastic peasant girl, as he had assumed.

An hour later, a large contingent of Elsa's Royal Guard, joined by several Arendellian foot soldiers were steadily making their way towards the mysterious vessel, ready for a fight.

Arendelle's people stepped aside as the soldiers made their way through the city square towards the harbor. Shouts of confusion rose up from the citizenry, with more than a few wondering if this was the flagship of an invasion fleet waiting further out at sea.

When the soldiers reached the docks, they immediately raised their rifles and assumed formation, the first row kneeling, while the second aimed over their heads, the rest waiting in reserve. The Captain of the guard, a tall, heavily built man with a thick black mustache, spoke.

"Make yourselves known, or prepare to be met with military force!"

Now, at close range, it was clear the men on the ship were indeed soldiers, with swords strapped to their hips and rifles cradled in the crook of their arms, or flintlocks hanging from their belts. Thankfully, none raised aimed a firearm nor drew a sword at the sight of the Arendellian warriors. Instead, they slowly lowered their weapons, but did not speak.

An instant later, burly, flamboyantly dressed man with a great red flaming beard to rival that of Thor himself, appeared at the top of the gangplank.

A Large silver crown sat upon his head, carved with beautifully ornate symbols and studded with undoubtedly priceless jewels.

He raised his hands slowly, as if in surrender.

"May I descend from my ship without being shot at?"

"State your name and purpose!" The Captain called out.

"I Am King Gustav V of the Southern Isles, I wish to be granted an audience with her majesty Queen Elsa."

The Captain stared for a moment. From the size of the ship, and the obvious expense of its' decorations and the man's clothing, there was no reason to doubt he was telling the truth, still the Captain was hesitant.

At last he said; "Bring fifteen of your men, with weapons put away, and follow us."

He turned to his own men.

"The rest of you stay here! Keep an eye on this ship! Understand? I'm going to send Sturlusson and his men down for reinforcements."

The King obliged, and in minutes, guarded carefully by fifty Arendellian guardsmen, was on his way to see the queen.


End file.
